I Am A Strong Believer In The

I Push Against The Tree And Run Away, Stumbling, The Unreal Night Playing With Me, Gravity Pulling From Below, Behind, Above, Making Me Fall. And I Run Through A World That Is Rotating, Conscious Of The Earth's Spin, Of Our Planet Twirling As It Careens Through Nothingness, Of The Stars Spiraling Above, Of The Uncertainty Of Everything, Even Ground, Even Sky. Mumtaz Never Calls Out, Although A Thousand And One Voices Scream In My Mind, Sing, Whisper, Taunt Me With Madness.

Time Only Moves In One Direction. Remember That. Things Always Change.

I Take Six Or Seven Years To Write Really Small Books. There Is A Kind Of Aesthetic Of Leanness, Of Brevity.

I Was, In My Own Eyes, A Veritable James Bond — Only Younger, Darker, And Possibly Better Paid.

And With A Last Stardrop, A Last Circle, I Arrive, And She's There, Chemical Wonder In Her Eyes.